The Coffee Shop Mafia
by SuperEpicPandas
Summary: Four friends who just happen to be some of the best players in all of GTA are sucked into that same world when one of them makes a binding contract with a desperate wish-granter. Soon, they find themselves tangled up in Los Santos' infamous underground world of crime. And they love every second of it. Rated T for violence and harsh language. R&R!


**Author's Note:** The IGNs (In-Game Names) of the characters shown are real. However, they are simply people I met while playing whom I either found to be interesting or to have nice names. Please do not try to find these players, they're actually nice people (contrary to the usual GTA Online player) who probably don't deserve any pestering.

**Do You Believe in Wishes?**

"Fucks' sakes, man, you'd think they'd run out of cops to throw at us sooner or later." I wonder aloud as another set of five or six law enforcement vehicles are blown to smithereens by my hand.

"Aw, come on Societal, don't be so serious. This is just a game, after all. You aren't going to see the most skilled criminals in all of GTA hanging out together, defending the Altruist camp as if it was their own from cops in real life. That is, not after slaughtering the original residents." Glow Jesus replies, while at the same time going more tryhard than the rest of us.

Indeed, that's exactly what we're doing. These days, playing games like Last Team Standing or Races have become far too easy for us unless we compete against each other. As such, we've devoted much of our time on this game to murdering cops and doing some almost-serious roleplaying.

"Hey, look, we've got four helicopters- No, wait, five helicopters." InternetEye15 observes in his usual deep, Rambo-like voice. While I shoot up a few cops near the entrance, I hear a few explosions within rapid sequence of each other behind me. "Nope, nevermind, there's only one."

"Make that none!" Captain Woof yells through the mic as skillfully delivers a headshot to the pilot of the remaining helicopter, subsequently causing it to plummet to the ground. It only takes me a moment to find that the helicopter is heading straight for me. It only took a fraction of a second for me to roll forward, barely avoiding the explosion radius.

"Oh, what the hell!? You almost killed me!" I yell back at Woof.

"Hey, calm your tits man, it's not like I can control the helicopter on the way down." Woof replies, to which I can think of no retort. "Besides, this is just a game. You'll respawn anyways."

Perhaps it was my overactive imagination getting the better of me that day. I could never fathom this actually happening, but it was interesting to my teenage mind nonetheless.

"Hey, what if all four of us got sucked into Grand Theft Auto, and we could respawn and everything?" I ask my companions.

"First thing I'd like to find out is how to get home." Is the immediate first reply I receive from a certain Glow Jesus.

"Yeah, same here." Captain Woof agrees.

"Eh, I don't know. Doesn't really matter, though, since that's impossible." InternetEye states.

I don't try to debate with them, nor do I even state my own opinion, instead steering the topic towards something involving the Great Easter Eggs on top of Mount Chiliad.

Put very simply, though, I don't agree with any of them. I hate this god-forsaken, unfair, flawed fat slop of a world we were all born into.

I'm probably one of the most intelligent people around, to be honest. Ever since I was young, I've always been fascinated with knowledge. By the time I was in fourth grade I was able to perform pre-calculus equations. However, this particular "talent" of sorts often comes with a price to pay.

My pursuit of intelligence has left me antisocial. Whenever I made at least one real-life friend, I was always eventually ostracized by those same people.

It was only when I got into my freshman year of high school that I discovered the world of gaming. For some reason, I never felt antisocial; in fact, I found that I was far more outgoing _here_ than in real life. Even so, I made my name "Societal Mistep" so that I may never lose sight of who I always will be in real life: A Social Fuckup.

Eventually, I became almost entirely immersed in video games. Whether it be family simulations or shooting games, I was always driven to be the best I could be in that game.

Then, I met those three: Captain Woof, InternetEye15, and Glow Jesus. All of them were in a similar boat as me. Apparently, they had all gradually gotten together after meeting each other over time.

Together, we formed a group, and called ourselves the Coffee Shop Mafia.

In first-person shooter games, our clan initial is CSM.

In GTA V, our Crew Initial is CSMA.

In either gametype, our name was feared even by the fellow elite as much as the lower class.

Now, one of the most expansive games of consoles has become our sole focus: Grand Theft Auto V.

The four of us made it to level 120 by the third month of its release, but we still wanted to focus on totally mastering the game and all its secrets.

As such, I've become infatuated with a certain specific chain of easter eggs all seemingly connected by a map of sorts on top of mount Chiliad.

Despite our goals, most of the time the four of us just fuck around and kill cops and players.

* * *

><p>Flopping back on my bed, I let out a long sigh and look at the small stack of homework papers and the plastic binder which always seems to accompany the oak wooden desk, of which it's almost always perched upon.<p>

_I fucking despise school,_ I think to myself. _I'd blow it up, but that'd take too much time and effort. Besides, I don't think it'll all be worth it._

_I'm not saying I couldn't do it._

_I sure as hell'd be able to pull that off, easy._

_But I'll save the explosions for GTA._

It's that thought which brings up the brief conversation I had with my only comrades earlier today.

_What if we DID get sucked into Grand Theft Auto? I'm sure they'd be tripping over themselves trying to get out._

_Ah, but I'm sure they'd eventually accept it._

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a brief flash of light in the sky through the window. A shooting star. _Perhaps this is my chance. It probably won't work, but..._

"I wish the four of us were all sucked into Grand Theft Auto V." I say aloud. Of course, these words reach nobody's ears but my own...

"You sure?" A feminine voice says._  
><em>

... Or so I thought.

Startled by the second presence in the room, I scramble to the lightswitch at the foot of my bed and jam it up with all my strength as if it were my only salvation to escape death itself.

Sitting on my desk chair before me is a young girl about my age, with crimson red hair and unnaturally sparkly maroon eyes. She dons a white straightjacket, with the belts and buttons all being undone, enabling her full mobility.

"Who- who the hell are you?" I ask her, daring not to raise my voice high enough to alert my parents.

"Is that any way to treat a lady?" She asks, clearly only pretending to be angry. "A genie at that, jeez!" Only now do I realize her accent is foreign, though I cannot quite place where.

"What?" is all I'm able to say. I immediately don't trust her words considering the straightjacket. "You're crazy..."

"Crazy? You get more and more rude by the second." The girl hops off the chair and lands on the ground while unnaturally not causing any sound, striking a confident pose. "_I_ am Shinri, your genie!"

"I... still don't believe you."

"Is it because of the straightjacket?" She looks curiously down at her chest, and only now do I notice the sleeve of the jacket are far longer than her actual arms. "Thing is, last time I said that to someone, they ended up throwing me in the nuthouse."

I am compelled to ask more, for some reason. "Wait, then how'd you get out?"

Shinri loses her happy demeanor in almost an instant. She turns around, bowing her head down and crossing her arms as if it was cold. "I..." She mumbles the rest of the sentence so that I couldn't hear it.

"You what?"

"I wished for myself to be free, okay?!" She says loudly.

"Hey hey hey, not so loud! My parents might awake." I warn her. "You don't want to go back, do you? Besides, what's so bad about wishing yourself free? Isn't that, I don't know, kind of what you people do?" I ask.

Shinri lowers her voice this time. "Not really. I mean, we _do_ grant wishes, but most of the time they're for humans. We can twist up their wish for our own amusement, but that's as selfish as we can get. There's dire consequences for the wish-granter if they straight-up wish for themselves or for another genie." She explains.

"Wait, do you die or something?" I ask her.

"Yeah. Most of us are supposed to be immortal, forever granting wishes for humans and occasionally animals. But if that taboo is broken, then our body and soul all slowly rot away. It's a terrible way to die." Though I can't see her face, I can tell that simply talking about this makes her want to cry. "There's a way to escape it though. We can bind ourselves with one person eternally, and grant them infinite wishes without twisting them for our benefit. That's why..."

"That's why _what?_"_  
><em>

"That's why I want to grant _your_ wishes. Most people wish for money, power, or fame, but I just know that _you_ don't want that. You want to live immortally in a game, don't you? If I can grant your wish, then you, me, and all your friends will forever live in whatever world you please." Her tone of voice seems to be rising, as if reminding herself of the reason she's here boosts her morale. "So please, say it again. Say your wish!" She commands me.

_Should I really trust her?_

_She's wearing a fucking straightjacket._

_But then again, what could be the harm in this?_

_I hate this world, so it might even be worth it if I end up dead from this._

"Alright. I'll do it." I tell her.

Shinri's face lights up with joy. "Oh my god, thank you!" She throws herself into me, wrapping her arms around my upper back. I can't help but be flustered. I mean, I haven't been this close to another person since my 12th birthday. I don't want to talk about that.

"O-okay, just get off of me so I can do i- gah! C'mon, you're suffocating me dammit!" Thankfully, she releases me from her death hug and pulls a handful of yellow powder out of seemingly nowhere.

"Go on." She tells me.

I take a moment to think of my words.

"I wish that Captain Woof, InternetEye15, Glow Jesus, Societal Mistep, and Shinri the Genie were all pulled from our 'real' world lives into the world of Grand Theft Auto V!"

The powder begins emitting a bright light, one that exceeds the ceiling light that originally illuminated my room.

"Hold on, I'm going to make this as close to what you want as I could!" She closes her eyes, clearly focusing on working her magic. "Alright!"

Shinri, immediately after speaking, blows half of the powder in my face, causing me to get sleepier and sleepier. Being too tired to stand, I fall backward onto my bed.

Before completely losing consciousness, however, I see Shinri vigorously snorting the remainder of the powder herself like a drug addict. She quickly falls on the bed next to me soon afterward.

"Now we're bounded by contract... Forever.." Are her last words before I finally lose my grip on what was once my reality.

After what feels like a minute's rest, I'm awoken by the sound of clothes rustling.

It only takes me a moment to realize that it's an old homeless man searching through my clothes. I'm in a city alleyway on a bright sunny day.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing!? Get off of me!" I yell at him without restraint. My only reply is a fingerless-gloved hand to the face.

"Shut up and stay down, and you keep your life! I gotta knife, you know!" The hobo threatens.

_What the hell's happening?! Wait, could it be? Time to test it..._

"Weapon wheel." I mutter. Immediately, I am graced by the weapon wheel of Grand Theft Auto V.

**_IT_ _WORKED!_**

Though I am still on the ground, I look directly at my most appropriate weapon for being in a city with corrupt cops: My silenced Combat Pistol. Immediately, I feel a small polymer object in my right hand, which I hide under my lower back.

"Heheheheheheh... HAHAHAHAHAHA!" I know I sound like a maniac, but can you blame me? This motherfucker is about to be fucked up!

"What the hell? Shut up!" The hobo commands.

"You know, you'll find nothing of use to you on me. So how about you just get up and walk your homeless, diseased ass away so we can carry on with our lives?" I ask him with a sly voice.

"I said shut up! You're in no position to be making demands like that!" The hobo exclaims.

"Fine, then." I wait a moment so as to ensure the hobo continues searching me. When he looks away from me towards my shoes, I lift up the gun which he had not noticed yet.

"Now, die." I command him. He looks up, and his eyes widen at the sight of my gun. However, before he can react at all, I squeeze the trigger.

The recoil jerked my hand up, but only slightly. The suppressed _plink_ of the gun firing the round sounded almost like music.

As for the homeless man, his head is immediately jerked up from the bullet entering his skull. He collapses at my feet, blood slowly flowing out from the exit wound created by my bullet in the back of his head.

I get up, pick up his body, and dump it in a nearby dumpster.

As if to reassure myself that this is really happening, I look down at my attire once more.

I have a white button-up shirt under a black bartender vest with a bowtie. My suit pants are fitted to me, and my shoes are black-and-white oxfords. Feeling my head, it's slicked back as it should.

But something's missing...

Lying on the ground a few footsteps from where I had awoken lies a white fedora with a black stripe. I pick it up and place it on my head.

Behold, Coffee Shop Mafia Member #2: Societal Mistep.

Or, as others refer to me, The Bartender.

Picking up my smartphone, which the homeless man had taken from me in hopes of unlocking it, I open my contacts. Everyone from GTA Online is there, as well as four other players:

Captain Woof

InternetEye (For some reason without the numbers)

Glow Jesus

And Shinri

Along with them are contacts which were NPCs of Grand Theft Auto. However, considering how I've never experienced a homeless man mugging me ingame before, these people probably shouldn't be called NPCs anymore.

I call my Mechanic and tell him to bring me my black-and-white Bati 180 motorcycle.

_The world I had once lived in was cruel and unfair. It favored people who hardly had to work to get their wealth._

_This world permits those who, with the sweat of their brow, could gain the riches they deserve._

_We will all rule this world. I can guarantee it._

* * *

><p><strong>YAY! Chapter 1 is done! I noticed that most people tend to totally skirt the idea of a GTA Online fic, so I wanted to switch it up a bit!<strong>


End file.
